We had not come to the forest to hear stories of the ill-fated. We had enough of that back at home. We were here to find Poison Pie a bride and we soon continued on our mission.

Sunlight, shredded by the canopy of leaves overhead, fell in tatters down a dirt bank. Taking shelter from the sun beneath a stone parasol, we encountered a squat, ruddy-faced bride-to-be.

Not a dozen feet away, we found an orange and ruffled and similarly eligible bride. They invited us to stay for a cup of tea beneath their rocks. Tired from the exertion of hiking, we accepted a brief respite.